Saturday, 14 March 2015

Cookbook: Colin Davies’s (F)owl au Vin

There are, dear reader, at large in this wayward and overcrowded world
of ours, all sorts of very weird people. There are such who walk with a chip on
their shoulder. There are those who wrap yellow ribbons around their neck to
remember a loved one, or weave green willow boughs around their hats to spite
one who has spurned them. Others yet again have bats in the belfry; buns in the
oven; or walk around with a fried egg on their head (although, as the inimitable Ms Bette Midler observed: ‘The ladies with the fried eggs on their
heads don’t generally come out until September or October…’)

Ah yes: it takes all kinds, and we
really ought to be tolerant to every folly which the Good Lord has put onto
this earth to amuse us…

It becomes, however,
extraordinarily hard to muster the necessary lenience when such madness strikes
a close friend, who deserves better, whom one would like to protect from his
more irrational antics, and with whom one is regularly seen in public, with all
the inevitable consequences for one’s own immaculate reputation.

And one such lamentable case unfortunately
is mine…

My dear friend Colin Davies, born
in Liverpool (need I say more?) but lately of the charming Spanish town of
Pontevedra, a while ago fell victim to a serious ailment: columbidaephobia, that is: the subclass of ornithophobia in which one experiences a deep, murderous,
blood-thirsty hatred of pigeons. Don’t
ask me why. He can’t stand the sight of the beasts. He would tear them to pieces
with his teeth… And of course they are all over his home town, so that one
wonders why he ever decided to live in an old historical Spanish city full of
decrepit stone buildings, which are a perfect breeding ground for these
charming little birds. Why not move to the Kalahari Desert, where pigeons are
rare, or the North Pole, where there are none? Oh well… To each his own, I say,
with all the leniency I can muster.

A harmless pigeon

But worse than this innocuous loathing
itself, is that the good man has decided to do
something about it. You see, he next fell victim to the completely ludicrous
conviction that one could scare pigeons away by sculptural means. Believe it or
not, but the fellow started walking around the pleasant old town of Pontevedra,
which never did him no harm, with a huge, shockingly painted, hollow plastic
owl tugged in the hollow of his elbow, from café terrace to café terrace, from
restaurant to classical concert, from doctor’s consultancy to modern art
museum, in the morning, in the afternoon, in the depth of night… and only too
often in my embarrassed company…

Did it work? What do you think? Just
take a look at the picture on this here blog, and you will see for yourself how
well a hideous plastic owl scares city pigeons away… The only result the polypropylene
monstrosity effected was that passers-by stared at us weirdly, and whispered
dank phrase at each other, followed by hilarious laughter…

This is he. The red face is the result of Albariño wine and Pontevedra sunshine.The hideous colors on the owl are paint.

I have therefore declared War on
Owls, dear reader. On all owls. Flesh and blood, feather and kapok, plastic,
stone, wood and even celluloid. I want them gone. I want them out of this
world. If, I say, we managed to exterminate the Dodo (which never did us no
wrong either) and the Elephant (which is on the way out) and the Platypus
(which will soon fall victim to its lack of looks and cuddliness…), then why
can’t we do something about a vicious night stalker that plays parasite to
small rodents and little kittens and babies left momentarily unattended in
their prams by their smartphony mamas??

Yes, it is high time that something
be done about it! And I shall start with the flesh & blood variety, as they
are the origin of all the trouble. Therefore I have whipped up this delicious recipe,
which is so very irresistible that soon house wives, caterers and restaurants
will wish to serve nothing else; demand for dead food owls will surge like an
eagle in the sky; and poachers will put a quick and efficient stop to the whole
despicable breed!

So here we go with

Colin
Davies’s (F)owl au Vin (for two people)

Get 1 plucked and cleaned bird.

The bird may be any class or
species of owl, but preferably it should be a very young one. These tend to be more
tender, and they have the tremendous additional advantage that – if only their neck
is wrung early enough – they get no chance to procreate (which is the whole
point of this delicious recipe, after all…)

If you have really tried hard, and got a categorical No from every supermarket,
delicatessen, poulterer, zoo and volière
in a 20 mile radius, you may also make this dish with a small free range spring chicken or cornish hen or whatever, as long you DO NOT use pigeon! Pigeons are
a harmless, innocent symbol of peace that deserve to enjoy life and liberty
until God calls them to His side!

Once you have your bird, pour
yourself a sparkly glass of white wine,
and enjoy the sight of that dead owl for a sweet, contemplative moment. Then flavour
the bird with a mixture of salt, pepper,
some curry and some mustard powder (if you can get it) and let it sit for
at least an hour.

Put a few drops of oil into a deep casserole, and fry a
tiny slice of common lard until it
is brown and shrivelled. Take the slice out of the pan and throw it away. We
only need the fat, which lends this fried owl its particular aromatic flavour.

Toss a generous chunk of sweet butter into the casserole and
allow it to melt over a slow fire. Make sure it does not burn.

Now fry the owl on all four sides
as you would do with a normal chicken. Once it has turned golden brown, lower
the fire to the minimum and let it simmer for 5 minutes more. In the meanwhile,
warm up at least half a bottle of dry
white wine in a saucepan. As this dish is dedicated to Colin Davies, I
suggest a quality Albariño, of which he is fond.

Pour the wine into the casserole,
and bring to a cautious boil. The Fowl au
Vin will come out best if the entire bird is submerged in the liquid; but
do not add water. Doing so spoils the taste.

Close the casserole and let the
bird simmer for 30 to 45 minutes. Then toss in a very tiny sprig of rosemary, a teaspoon of sugar, and – if you want to be
adventurous – a spoonful of soft green
peppers. Let it simmer a few minutes longer, and take the pan off the
stove. It is a good idea to let it cool off just a little before carving and serving.
Sprinkle some dry parsley on top,
for the colourful effect.

Nota Bene: if the sauce comes out too
greasy to the taste (which sometimes happens when you use too big a slice of
lard), mix a spoonful of corn flour with some water, toss it in, and let the
sauce simmer for another five minutes. This will absorb the grease, and the
meat only comes out more tender.